Violence is not a coping mechanism, it’s a hobby

Two pitch black swords glinted in the light of the fire as Kato stepped through, his eyes reflecting the scene ahead of him.

Wagons were overturned and the stench of smoke and death hung thick in the air. The distant sound of screams and the clashes of sword against sword could be heard in the distance.

The voice from before spoke again, “There is only one objective here disciple, survive.”

Faint symbols swirled ahead of him and his rage batted them away with ease, no others would influence his mind today.

Kato’s rage smiled. The world had taken Styx and now it would pay in turn.

He trudged forward down the slope of the low grass hill he had found himself transported to. His boots squelched in the sodden grass, the wet permeating through and attacking his feet beneath. In turn he attacked the ground below each step leaving a deep imprint as the soft ground caved under his slender frame.

Kato followed the smoke. It billowed ahead of him, filling the sky. Embers and ash alike swirled through the air, still hot to the touch. Faint sizzling could be heard in the background, fiery ash meeting the wet ground.

“AHHH!” A man screamed, suddenly charging at Kato from a small barren track ahead of him. Pebbles skittered as the clean-shaven man tore towards him. His eyes were bulging in a maddened frenzy, pure black veins intertwined across his irises as if he had been touched by the devil. The man’s mouth was opened wide, two thick canines jutted out like that of a dogs. Saliva lathered his square chin.

He raised a rusted short sword high as he cleared the last step to Kato.

Kato tensed he was unarmed and if he was in control he would have turned and ran. But he wasn’t his rage was, Kato raised a fist towards the maniac charging him.

And…

The man dropped dead, mere feet away, just collapsing to the ground face first.

Kato walked over and roughly grabbed the man’s shoulders spinning him over. A single, still bulging eye stared him down, the other dangling to the ground on red fibrous strands.

Kato’s rage examined him for a moment, ‘scared him to death,’ a callous voice chuckled, then he reached over grasping the hilt of the dead man’s blade. He tugged it, but the weapon refused to budge. He tugged harder and the man's arm rose with the blade still clasped in death's grip.

Kato glowered at the hand, letting it drop back to the ground. If he still had human sensibilities, he likely would have been disgusted by what happened next, but he didn’t and he wasn’t.

With a sharp kick, Kato struck downwards, shattering the bones of the dead man’s hand with a brutal crack. The fingers splayed outwards at an unnatural angle and Kato grabbed the now free blade with his dominant hand. With a sharp turn he made to leave but something held him back.

He turned once again to examine the body. The man had clearly been sick and as much as his anger demanded blood and as much as the man had attacked him first. He paused. It just wasn’t right. The wrongs of life could often be settled by the great redeemer.

Kato’s hand reached down, slotting the eyeball back in its socket, then with a swift two fingered motion he slid the eyelids closed, letting the man have the peace in death that he clearly hadn’t in life. With a slight circling of his chest Kato turned to leave once again, his humanity had flickered to life again briefly, but his rage wasn’t done. Not yet.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Kato continued to walk forward, the weight of the aged blade, hung heavy in his hand, threatening to tip forward. Again and again Kato corrected it. After a while he was severely tempted to leave the blade behind him, toss it to the side and be done with the infernal thing.

But as peaceful as a trial of battle sounded, he would rather show up with a sword to a sword fight than his fists.

Crunch! A booted foot ground into the pebbles that edged the dirt track. Crunch! A second joined it, before being replaced with the dull thuds of footsteps on compacted dirt.

Kato marched on. The grass hill faded behind him as the overturned wagons got larger and larger. The acrid scent of burnt wood filled the air.

He reached the wagons. No one was there. Without much thought he prodded a blackened chunk of burnt wagon with his blade. It crumbled to his touch, crashing on the ground in a burst of ash and smoke. He looked at it for a second, then stared away. ‘I thought this was a trial of battle,’ his rage growled.

Kato looked back to the hill. His eyes blazed, demanding answers, ‘was this some kind of trick?’

The sounds of battle still raged in the far distance, but the noise hadn’t grown any louder since he started walking.

His eyes narrowed as he scanned the area again for the mystery fighters. They were nowhere to be found, ‘another trick,’ his rage spat.

Kato was not prepared to be left alone with his thoughts, and he especially didn’t want to think of Styx, but his mind drifted there nonetheless, his pupils slowly morphing back to more humane round spheres. ‘Why was she so prepared to die?’ he thought mournfully, ‘I could have done something, saved her, if only I had been given the chance.’

He looked back to the sky, a single tear sliding down his face, he hadn’t even got to say goodbye.

He stayed motionless for some time until a strong, male voice broke out once again.

“Preparation time for the trial of battle is now over, fighting will commence in one minute, may the suffering guide you,” it cut out suddenly.

Kato blinked wearily, as he frantically cleared the blur from his eyes, ‘preparation time? Was I supposed to prepare?’

Then the veil was pierced, hundreds of bodies thronged the surroundings, maybe even thousands.

His hand wrapped around the sword’s hilt tighter.

“Survive,” the voice stated simply and disappeared, apparently its spiritual wisdom depleted.

Kato wrapped his body tight against the cover of the wagons, he couldn’t be foolish about this.

Clang! Clang! Clang! The once distant sounds of metal clashing on metal were now all encompassing. Kato darted his head around the side of a wagon. Four men stood amidst the burning wreckage, it was a vicious three on one, as three lightly armoured attackers beat down on a singular iron, clad soldier with barbed maces.

Kato didn’t know much about warfare, but blunt force trauma was blunt force trauma. Each flinch and stagger of walking suit of armour made it painfully clear that they knew that too.

They kept hitting him, forcing him back. The iron suit dropped its blade and a large two-handed sword with an ornate, wooden handle dug deep into the ground. Soon they were pushed up against the charred wood of a wagon.

Kato would have probably been happy to watch this unfold. After all he only had to survive. From this he could learn more about his enemies. That was what he had been planning, it was what he had wanted to do.

Then one of the attackers laughed.

Kato’s mind flashed back to the blursons laughing at him while he was defenceless, unable to fight back. He wouldn’t let it happen again. He couldn’t. His eyes contracted violently, pitch black swords taking over once again.

His rage smiled. He wasn’t unable to fight back anymore.

Kato sprung into action his rusted blade cut through the air with a vicious hiss, burying itself into one of the attackers’ necks. Kato yanked it back, seizing the element of surprise. His blade began to pull back, but just as he prepared to gouge again. The blade decided it had enough. Apparently taking notes from Styx it quit at the first sign of resistance and the metal blade snapped off at the hilt.

Kato’s hand drew back, clutching the gnarled wood he still had tightly. With no time to think his hand went into motion again. He swung it hard, the wood thwacking the side of another attacker’s head. His rage refused to even let him consider what it meant to fight unarmed.

The man turned, rage painting a pale face a stunning shade of red, his mace flew through the air, guided towards Kato’s unarmoured body.

Bang! A metal covered fist shot out from behind him clipping the mace wielder’s head and he went down like a sack of bricks, collapsing to the ground. Apparently, the metal man wasn’t done yet.

Bang! A second fist took notes from the first and the last of the attackers joined his companions on the ground, his skull caved in.

The metal man turned to face Kato, and his stomach churned. He remembered all too well what had happened the last time he had met a faceless man.